Saturday, January 31, 2009

Godzilla the Series: An Exercise in Over-Analysis (Part III)

Episode 4: D.O.A.

Plot: After the usual prologue/pre-credit teaser, the full strength of H.E.A.T. (including N.I.G.E.L. the Doomed Robot) lands in “Costa Roja,” the first of several fictional Central and South American countries exploited explored in the course of this show. “So how come I’ve never heard of this place?” Token Youth Randy Hernandez asks. Agent Dupre rises to demonstrate why she’s my favorite character, rhetorically replying: “Because you were educated in America?”

Dr. Elsie Chapman jokes that Dr. Nick Tatopoulos may find his holy of holies inside this steamy jungle: a giant worm, reportedly making life miserable for the local farmers (as we saw in the credits--way to built suspense, show). This is just about the last mention made of Nick’s pre-Godzilla life, and another instance of the show’s idiotic attitude toward Science. We can safely assume Nick’s abandoned his research into Chernobyl’s finer invertebrates, the better to run his freelance, monster-hunting road show—to be the leader of, as Randy said, last episode, “the world’s number one monster hunting team.”

Said team, after the obligatory machete-hacking, comes upon a scene of pastoral devastation: crop fields (what crop? Surely not cocaina. No…that would be wrong. Drugs are bad, m'kay?) turned into giant trenches by the passage of “El Gusano Gigante.” “Humongoid Worm,” Randy translates for Dr. Mendel Craven…who’ll spend today’s episode living up to his last name.

Because we’re only a twenty-minute show, El Gusano soon makes his presence felt for our heroes. Running, screaming, and the usual close-calls ensue, until (with an unbelievable level of stealth) Godzilla arrives to save everyone’s bacon.

Ah, but “the G-man’s” did not approach unobserved. With El Gusano distracted, the local military (in a response so rapid it shames the American response to the first Godzilla) pulls our heroes to (relative) safety before opening fire on both combatants. Nick’s pleas for sanity (“General, your weapons aren’t going to slow down those creatures. At best, they’ll only provoke the winner into attacking your troops.”) fall on deaf ears. The local generale has a brand new biological weapon on-site and he’ll be damned if some jumped-up team of Norte scientists is gonna tell him what to do with it.

On the (unnamed) generale's order, the troops fire a checker-board-patterned missile into the monster melee, releasing a cloud of yellow gas. El Gusano retreats after a bout of spontaneous mutation (warping its already out-there physiology to include horns and claw, along with the teeth and eyes--yeah, that's a "worm" alright). Godzilla, in what amounts to a surrealist parody of human inebriation, performs a short “Dude-I-am-so-wasted” dance before falling into the sea.

It’s time for Science to swing into action. After many moments of analysis, H.E.A.T. discovers…it’s cancer (dun-dun-DUN!). Well, no, not really cancer…but el generale’s “bio-weapon” is slowly but surely killing Godzilla. Without a fresh sample to poke at, the prognosis is negative: Godzilla will die within hours.

Ticking Clock firmly established, it’s time for some espionage, courtesy Monique Dupre. With a stoic, workwoman’s sensibilities and backup from the amorous Mr. Hernandez, Monique penetrates el generale’s jungle base, conveniently located within easy driving distance of the shore.

Meanwhile, back on the Heat Seeker, anchored alongside Godzilla’s unconscious bulk, Drs. Nick and Craven hold a little palaver. “I’m not cut out for this,” Mendel informs his nominal boss. “I’m a thinker, not a doer.” Nick agrees that, once this is over, he’ll be happy to cut Mendel loose—“no hard feelings,” no strings attached.

Unfortunately, Monique and Randy’s little adventure in provoking international incidents was all for naught: it’s impossible to synthesize an antidote from the “tainted” samples they pilfered. So it’s back to the jungle, where our heroes (including the reluctant Mendel) search for the rare orchid el generale used to create his little “bio-phage”. Shocker of shockers—H.E.A.T. finds hundreds of the little things growing in the rich, brown earth of El Gusano’s wake.

”If we burn the rest of these plants,” Nick says, “we may at least slow down el generale’s weapons program.” Unfortunately, this attracts the Humongoid Worm, setting up our last action sequence. While the rest of the team keeps El Gusano busy, Dr. Craven voluntarily runs through the jungle (never looking back to see) on a mission to revive Godzilla and save the day.

Analysis: This being the second full episode produced, we see a series in the midst of defining itself. Themes and issues established here will haunt the rest of the show, to be handled or miss handled in turn. Monique and Randy’s relationship is only the most obvious example…with Godzilla and Dr. Nick’s relationship running close behind. In the former case, we see annoyance on the one hand, and horiness on the other, merge into the kind of instantaneous, mutual respect found only in action movies…like the ones Randy describes as he and Monique flee Costa Roja’s forces: “Did you see us in there? We were like Butch and Sundance, Thelma and Louise…uhhh—Sundance and Louise.” Indeed. The latter case is a bit more complicated.

Better to ask the question Mendel’s (all-too-brief) crisis of consciousness trips over: Is anyone really “cut out” for professional monster hunting? Just what are the effects of such a high-stress job? What kind of person would chose to spend long hours of strenuous field work in godforsaken hellholes full of monsters, week in, week out? Why does Mendel Craven chose this life at the end of the episode? Odd that episode writer Richard Mueller didn’t chose to answer this question with Elsie. No, it’s not love, but a near-life experience that triggering Mendel’s epiphany, leaving me to wonder, Why? I mean, I know I’d probably be driven away by a close encounter with Godzilla’s foot. Mendel crawls all over the capillary-filled tissue of Godzilla’s mouth in an attempt to revive the Big G. Hope you never planned to have children, Mendel—Godzilla’s probably putting out enough rads to turn your seed into popcorn. If Audrey Timmonds ever wants kids, she better get real friendly with an adoption agency. For that matter, everyone at H.E.A.T. better watch out for the Big C, king of real life monsters. I’m amazed Dr. Nick hasn’t instituted mandatory radiation suit procedure.

Then again, Nick’s already lost his objectivity with regards to Godzilla. His comment at the big guy’s first appearance, make this obvious: "Godzilla followed us thousands of miles out of an instinctual need to protect…me.” Elsie’s response is priceless: “Give yourself all the credit, why don’tcha?”Good for her, bringing this up. How, exactly, does Godzilla track his adopted parental unit over hill and down dale? And air? And sea? “Instinct” is no answer, let me tell you . “Instinct” is a bullshit, catch-all phrase, translated from television-speak to mean, “Well…our writers were too busy, too harried, and/or too uncreative to come up with a good explanation. So we shrugged our shoulders, chalked it up to ‘instinct,’ and hoped no one would notice or think about it too awful much.”

Well, tough, guys. These are exactly the kinds of questions your audience will think about, assuming they’re smart. And daikaiju fans (no matter which side of the Pacific) are some of the smartest, most persnickety sci-fi fans around. We’re not Trekkies (yet…at least, not in this country) but we are a critical bunch, and we dearly love nothing a good round of pie-in-the-sky bullshiting. Having endured more crap in pursuit of our entertainment you’re your average bear, we know (if only on a subconscious level) a good explanation when we hear or see it. We know what works and we know what doesn’t. More often than not, we can even tell you why.

“Instinct” fails to explain Godzilla’s behavior because instinct (to make a bald-faced, oversimplification) is the product of evolution…mind-numbingly slow evolution. Birds fly south for the winter because, over the course of millions of years, their species “learned” that this behavior guaranteed survival. Pack animals form bonds, hierarchies, and familial units for the same reason, and they will rush to protect their genetic compatriots at a moment’s notice. But whatever rough, bestial process created Godzilla, it had absolutely jack to do with what the so-called Scientists in this show casually call “evolution.” As if we all know what that word means and all agreed on its definition. We don’t now, didn’t at the time this show premiered, and the creeping terror of Creationism and has only muddied up the waters.

Without going down that road...let me say, then, that Godzilla and his ilk are not “evolutionary” beings. The Series’ label for them, “mutations,” is about as accurate as you’re going to get without Latinizing. They are the rarest of the rare—spontaneous, beneficial mutations, so divorced from Mother Nature she won’t even give them visitation rights. The Series’ creators, relying on buzz words like “instinct” and “evolution,” created a plot hole wide enough for the Godzilla to walk through...and then only filled it up inadequately and haphazardly.

Each daikaiju story invents its own excuse for the titular monster’s presence. Times were Godzilla went where he wanted, when he wanted, for reasons known only to him—a popular track, revived in the 1990s. In the 1970s Hanna Barbara cartoon, Captain Majors of the research ship Calico literally had Godzilla at his beck-and-call, thanks to the ultrasonic pager on his belt (derived, no doubt, from the same technology running Jimmy Olsen’s wristwatch). H.E.A.T. will eventually resort to a similar technique for emergencies…but in a way, this feels like backsliding, in an Alcoholic’s Anonymous sense of the word.

Let me explain: giant monster storytellers (print or film—and I very much include myself in this) are addicted to lazy storytelling. It’s our own damn fault, and I’m sad to see it. We do not challenge ourselves. We wait for audiences to challenge us once our work is complete and it’s no surprise audiences pay so little attention to the finished product. By and large, we’re all producing generic crap, from the heights of Toho Studios to the depths of my own hard drive. We do it because it’s easy—audience expectations are so low, anyway, something like Cloverfield can come along and be like unto a revolution…even though it’s not.

In Nick and Godzilla you sense there’s a chance for the Series to strike out in a new direction, take this whole Monster As Friend To Man thing beyond the perfunctory waves and shouted commands we see here. I just find it sad to see that opportunity missed. Missed opportunities always get me a little misty.

Tune it next week for Cameron Winter and the Monster As Villain...and Victim.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

Michael Crichton and the Boundaries of Scientfic Prognostication



The author of Jurassic Park, Congo, Sphere, and a half-dozen others much better than State of Fear or Next, speaks at a National Press Corps event in 2006. This is about an hour and a half with the obligatory question time.

Tune in Saturday night for part three of our continuing quest through Godzilla The Series.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Godzilla the Series: An Exercise in Over-Analysis (Part II)

Episode 3: Talkin’ Trash
Plot: With a garbage strike seizing New York City in the wake of Godzilla Mark I's rampage, a pair of eggheads at the Manhattan Institute of Advanced Technology (MIAT?) struggle to find a “scientific solution.” The subordinate one, Felix (Faust?) (Grant Shaud—who will forever be, to me, the voice of Murphy Brown’s old boss boss, Miles Silverberg) has an answer in his still-to-be-perfected “Nanotech drivers”: a “colony of microbes” that consume petroleum-based products, manufacturing copies of themselves from the result. Visible to the human eye as a red-and-orange, candy cane-striped sludge, the drivers are unstable…and more than a little ravenous. Nevertheless, Felix (Faust)'s as-yet-unnamed boss insists on a field test for New York’s (unnamed) Mayor tomorrow. What could possibly go wrong...right?
Back at casa Tatopoulos, Randy Hernandez—punk, hacker, punk-hacker, and Odious Comic Relief of the series—busies himself painting eyes and a mean set of jaws on the tub of a boat DGSE Agent Monique Dupre secured in the last episode. “If we’re gonna be the world’s number one monster hunting team,” Randy pronounces, “we’re gonna need a mean looking ride.”
Ah, yes but--teams need names. “High-Performance, Environmental Attack Team,” Randy forwards, prompting Dr. Nick to poke his head out of the boat and ask, “How about, ‘Humanitarian, Environmental’...”
“—Analysis…” Elsie finishes “…Team?” Ah, the great debates of contemporary science…so applicable to me and my life today…
Science at work.Meanwhile, across the Hudson, something goes terribly wrong. Big surprise. And Audrey Timmonds is there, once again getting the kind of story real journalists only wet-dream of: “Live from the Hudson River, where a high-tech, garbage-eating microbe has spun out of control.” Like Raymond Burr’s Steve Martin, Audrey is everywhere, an observer to every giant monster attack in the New York metro area. Won’t be long before, in the true spirit of Gonzo, Audrey becomes a participant as well.

Not in this case, however. Now’s the time for H.E.A.T. (really? “H.E.A.T.”? Really? The entire development department of Fox Kids sits around for what was probably months and comes up with “H.E.A.T.”? Gimmie a fucking break, please) to save the day in their own, roundabout fashion.
Attempts to disable the ‘drivers with physical force only encourage microbial violence….which, in turn, draws Godzilla out of his new lair under the floor of New York harbor, obvious pissed at a nap interrupted. Thus the Monster as Friend to Man vs. the Monster of Science Gone Awry—a protracted kind of fight by the standards of later episodes, carrying Godzilla and the ‘drivers into one of New Jersey’s finer refineries.
While Godzilla keeps the monster busy, its up to H.E.A.T. to actually solve something. Echoing Independence Day, Randy and Mendel cease their on-going Prank War (called by Elsie, who's an enabler) long enough to devise a computer virus capable of crashing the Nanodrivers before they eat enough oil to swallow Manhattan. “Crashing,” in this case, appears to mean the creatures miraculously loose all the moisture they’ve gained in their travels, providing Godzilla a solid target to smash. With only a few tens of millions of dollars in damage to the New Jersey shore, it looks like a home run for the good guys…fuggitaboutit.

Unfortunately, Godzilla’s very public appearance shatters any illusions Nick and Maj. Hicks might’ve held about keeping the Big Guy, in Hicks’ words, “our little secret.”
Analysis: This episode solidifies elements that dominate the rest of the series: Randy and Mendel’s “prank war” via N.I.G.E.L. the robot (whom I refuse to talk about yet), Maj. Hicks’ ambivalent relationship toward Godzilla, and H.E.A.T.’s semi-magical ability to instantly assume control of any giant monster-related situation despite their complete (or, at the very least, never addressed) lack of government, military, or even corporate support.
This last is most interesting. That boat, the "H.E.A.T. Seeker" (much like Godzilla himself) goes where it wants with little regard for jurisdiction or procedure. Perhaps this whole imprinting thing runs both ways and a wee little bit of the Big G has already rubbed off on Dr. Nick. With one phone call “the guy who saved the City from Godzilla” muscles his boat through harbor patrol and into the thick of the “nano-tech feeding frenzy” (never thought I'd heard Miles Silverberg say that). Future episodes will make much of H.E.A.T.S. on-again, off-again powers of carte blanche. Now...if only our intrepid scientists could decide on a name for their new branch of vertebrate biology. “Mutationology” doesn’t sing, and “the study of biological anomalies” lacks visceral brevity. Kaijuologist is too Japanese for American T.V. and “Heat Seekers” just sounds creepy…the name of a monster in and of itself. Come to think of it, I don’t believe this question is ever officially settled by the series. Sigh.
Monique raises a more interesting one once Godzilla arrives to mix it up with the Orange-and-Red-Striped Goo: “Would you be cheering of there were people in those warehouses?” Wait...you mean there aren’t? It’s the middle of the day on the Jersey shore and ain’t nobody workin? Have the Teamsters been that successful? Or have the Americans of this universe finally wised up enough to copy a few of Japan’s disaster-preparedness protocols? Say what you want, but the Japanese know how to do quick, orderly mass movements...particularly in crowded, metropolitan areas. I can (reasonably) believe in Japan’s ability to evacuate her cities at the drop of a hat…but America’s? Not so much. Not so much anymore at all, in fact.
On one level, I understand the necessity of having Monique ask her question…on the other, I’d rather the producers snuck the fact that there aren’t any people in those warehouses under our noses…instead of rubbing it in our face. Some of us like to pretend the people making this series actually cared enough to avoid insulting our intelligence, or the intelligence of our hypothetical children, who (I’ll tell you right now) can be just as bloodthirsty as we are…if not more so. I was a wicked little child, regularly wished gloom and doom upon my foes, and when Godzilla stepped into a crowded street full of fleeing onlookers I knew each and every one of those fuckers had been ground into paste. And I loved it. I bloody loved it, and if you’ve got an American child who doesn’t he’s either lying to you…or he’s a Quaker.
We’ll detour there, past the whole ghettoized issue of Violence and Death and all that other depressing shite…and talk about Godzilla, the show’s, peculiar relationship to Science…Though integral (it being, nominally, a “science fiction” show) Godzilla’s writers and producers play fast and loose with the laws of physic, chemistry, and engineering, as anyone dealing with giant monster’s must.
Or must it? Really? I’m not suggesting that so-called “hard” science fiction writers invade the giant monster genre. Personally, their work leaves me limp, and I’m sure their presence would only drain the material of inherent humanity. I’m suggesting that, perhaps, giant monsters be taken seriously as concepts and as threats.
Example: the Nanotech Drivers—a crossbreed of two potent, modern techno-phobias: the actual nightmare of nanotechnology, Gray Goo, and every environmentalist’s nightmare: the plastosphere. What’s to stop anything that eats plastic from eating its way across the face of the earth? Writer Perry does a wonderful job building a credible threat…only to jump the shark with Randy and Mendel’s quick-fix computer virus. Seriously—does no one write code by hand anymore? I know they did back in ’98 and let me tell you what: it’s not a dramatic process no matter what television tells you. It lies.
It also numbs the mind with style whenever it can. The sight of Dr. Nick dangling from a helicopter is supposed to distract me. I’m not supposed to think about this stuff. But I am and I do. As should be obvious.
See you next time for another round of thought, space cowboys.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Godzilla the Series: An Exercise in Over-Analysis

Episode 1 + 2 "A New Family."
Plot: After a low-budget recap of Godzilla (1998)’s final moments, biologist Nick “Worm Guy” Tatopoulos (Ian Ziering) and Major (nee, Colonel) Hicks (Kevin Dunn) set out into the unstable warren of Godzilla-created tunnels formerly known as the Manhattan subway system. A well-timed cavein separates Dr. Nick from his military minders, sending him, like Alice, down a hole and into a strange new, topsy-turvy life. Nick lands in a small puddle of orange-yellow goo not five feet away from the object of his search: the last remaining Godzilla egg, miraculously intact after the aerial bombardment of Madison Square Garden.
Right on the cue, the egg hatches. Its issue—a bobble-headed, spindle-limbed version of his asexual progenitor—sniffs at Nick, licks his face, and retreats when the spark of a broken high-voltage line stuns its widdle, newborn eyes.
Maj. Hicks is nonplussed at Nick’s news of the newborn. “Now it’s time for the hunters to hunt,” he says, “and the lab rats to go back to the lab.” Frustrated, Nick recruits fellow-Drs. Elsie Chapman (Charity James) and Mendel Craven (Malcolm Danare) for a little freelance monster hunting. “We’re the only ones who can track it,” Nick says. “You wanna help me see this thing through, or would you rather wait for the army to screw it up?” Joined by Nick’s “research assistant” (re: Odious Comic Relief) Randy Hernandez (Rino Romano—now the voice of Bruce Wayne on The Batman), Our Heroes take over Nicks’ “research facility” (re: converted warehouse) on Staten Island as a “staging area,” while Hicks and his military cohorts fruitlessly plumb the Atlantic’s depths. Expecting a human-sized monster, it’s not long before Dr. Nick’s intrepid little band receives its first surprise: a T-Rex-sized Godzilla bounding out of the bay, making scrap-metal of Our Heroes’ improvised cage. Making a b-line for Dr. Nick, Godzilla stops short of popping the 90210-voiced scientist into his mouth. Instead, the visibly-calmed monster gives Dr. Nick a friendly-puppy lick, sets him down, and waits patiently for…what?With three PHDs between them, Our Heroes quickly deduce that Godzilla's imprinted on Nick, strange as it sounds. “I had this gunk from the eggs all over me,” Nick remembers. Yeah, that’d be afterbirth, Doc…something you, as a biologist, could’ve guessed at the time. But c’es la vive…In true Movie Scientist fashion, Nick decides to study Godzilla rather than bomb the lizard back to the Stone Age. Convincing his colleagues to go along with this proves far too easy, but, again, c’es la vive.
Too bad Nick makes no move to tell his erstwhile girlfriend, WIDF reporter Audrey Timmonds (Paget Brewster). This leaves Audrey and cameraman Victor “Animal” Polotti (Joe Pantoliano) to accidently come across Godzilla curled up on Nick’s doorstep. The two argue across Godzilla’s flank for awhile (prompting a very adverse reaction when Audrey raises her voice to Nick) when, suddenly, the army descends form out of an overcast, cartoon sky.
With Godzilla seemingly destroyed and Our Heroes (including Audrey and Animal) under house arrest, Nick grows suspicious. He accuses Audrey of calling in the task force. Audrey denies this. “Well, if you didn’t call Hicks, who did?” Audrey accuses Elsie, Elsie snipes back, and I’m sure Nick takes a moment to wonder why every woman in his life is a psychological fourteen-year-old.
Hicks and Nick take a walk outside, on Nick’s balcony, Twin Towers of the World Trade Center visible across the bay. They have a small debate on the ethics of live giant monster research. Calling it a draw, they depart as friends, Nick avoiding a charge of treason, and a stint in Guantanamo Bay.
That night (Twin Towers still visible, by God) Elsie and Craven make plans to visit Jamaica, where ships and swimmers have recently developed a bad habit of vanishing. While packing up for the trip, Nick and Odious Comic Relief (I’m sorry—his name’s Randy) discover Monique Dupree (Gargoyles and Red Shoe Diaries regular Brigitte Bako) breaking into the house computer. A Special Agent from Direction Generale de la Securite Exterieure, Monique presents herself as weapons master, bodyguard and (un)official liaison with…who? A good spy never tells. “Don’t know ‘bout you, jefe,” Randy, the human goliwog, comments, ”but I feel safer already.”
Nick takes Monique's offer and it’s off to Jamaica. Elsie and Craven, meanwhile, have a run in with some giant squid. Nick finds them cocooned in tar…the same tar congealing around their boat’s propellers. Giant squids have invaded Jamaica’s very waters. (Where they stirred up by the original Godzilla’s swim past the island?) Godzilla Mark Two--now over three hundred feet tall--makes short work of them on Nick’s behalf, returning from the dead just in time. Nick projects loyalty on Godzilla’s actions, but the implications of this are ignored…if, for no other reason, than the appearance of Crustaceous Rex.
This, first of Godzilla’s reoccurring foes, sets the tone for the remainder of the series both in its striking visual design, and its complete biological impossibility. (Legs and tentacles? Somebody, somewhere, got a little greedy.) A well-animated monster fight ensues, with Maj. Hicks and U.S. military arriving at the last minute. But it's okay: after violating all kinds of Jamaica’s territorial sovereignty, the military stands around while Godzilla does their job for them (pretty smart move, in terms of hardware losses). After triumphing over C-Rex, the Big G conveniently rescues all those tar-entombed missing-persons in the process. Nick triumphs over Hicks by arguing that Godzilla is “the only thing that stands between us and every other mutation that comes out of the woodwork. And believe me, Major, there will be others.” With a reluctance totally within character (and an authority out of all proportion to his rank) Maj. Hicks agrees to spare Godzilla's life.
Parting shot from Dr. Nick: “Just be thankful that whatever we have to face in the future, we won’t be facing it alone.”
Analysis: On the positive front, this series presented unrepentant junkies (like your humble narrator) with weekly giant monster action, the hour-long first episode serving this up right off. Its producers knew exactly what they were doing in a way Dean Devlin and Roland Emmerich did not. While maintaining continuity of characters and relationships, the series succeeded handsomely in gradually expanded its mythology to include almost every imaginable cliche in the daikaiju genre. Sooner or later, they get to everything here. And I'm going to have a damn good time pointing everything out.
Here we see the first shoots of that growth: the Monster as Friend to Man vs. the Monster From the Deep, set against the tropical backdrop of Jamaica. While Nick’s relationship with Godzilla dances on the edge of Gamera Territory…and I’m willing to let it slide since their "bond" really is the dramatic axis of the show, keeping Our (Human) Heroes involved in a way most giant monster film protagonists are not...and never will be so long as directors think it’s okay to have characters finish up a story blithely watching the monsters fight from minimum safe distance.

If anything, Dr. Nick and his followers are more proactive than Godzilla himself. Our Heroes showcase an ad-hoc, improvisation style of giant monster fighting that’s inventive by necessity—never the same trick twice. Surely the show's writers realized you can only have Godzilla blast the Monster of the Week away with a gust of Atomic Breath so many times before your audience cries out for…something more.
Put simply, like Justice League after it, Godzilla: The Series spent its run successfully mining its parent genre for every conceivably useful idea, eventually managing to distill at least fifty years of daikaiju movies into their purest, most ridiculous essence…and I mean that as a compliment, because if you’re into this sort of thing you couldn’t ask for more. What we have here is an animated, one hour, giant monster made-for-TV movie. Name another from the last ten years. Go on. I’m so desperate for human communication I’m actually daring you to name one. Go on.
Right. Pure, ridiculous essence. Every once in awhile, the producers of this series make with The Creepy. Better yet, they make with The Creepy at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning on Fox. Fucking Fox, man. This feat cannot be underscored often enough. These days you just can’t start the day with the sight of men being dragged to a watery grave by giant squid. More’s the pity.
And mores the pity this series suffers from all the idiotic constraints of American “children's” television, including but not limited to: a relative low budget (see below) and a general squeamishness—re: death.
The series has not aged well—computer technology was in its infancy during Godzilla’s run, and the uneven quality of animation testifying to this, lending the whole works one more layer of unbelievability than it needs. With my suspension of disbelief already stretched to the limit, I don’t want persnickety issues of scale to distract me…but good Lord, sometimes Godzilla and his monster rivals look tall as the Rockies…sometimes, not. Sometimes fight scenes become less like action sequences and more like surrealist interpretations of such. Witness Godzilla vs. C-Rex. The “G-man’s” very dimensions—his…ahem…anatomical proportions—have all the stability of a Salvador Dali watch. The same is true of every monster in the series. It’s annoying, distracting, and ever present. You’ve just got to learn to live with it if you want to enjoy this show. Should be no problem for men (and women) raised on rubber suits made in the dark heart of the 1970s…though we’ll be laughed at mightily for giggling over these little daikaiju nuggets. But fuck the uninitiated.
For one thing, it’s obvious this series takes place in a fantastic parallel dimension where giant monsters just appear, popping into existence like Mother Earth’s own acid flashbacks. The possibilities of such a place immediately fires that part of my brain that reads hard science fiction: obviously, no 9/11. But who knows what the U.S. government of this crazy, parallel world will do in its self-proclaimed War on Monsters? You’re telling me the CIA just allows some jumped-up DGSE Agent to attach herself to Dr. Nick Tatopoulos, Savior of New York City, the Man Who Destroyed Godzilla (well…the first one, anyway)? Where’s the FBI or the NSA or the Pentagon or somebody on something like that? Where’s the new, Cabinet-level post created specifically to deal with the “imminent threat” of a giant monster attack? Where’s the new Executive Department designed to funnel money to Congressional and Presidential cronies under the guise of “keeping America safe from giant monsters”? Where are the speeches, the debates, the pomp and the circumstance? Where is this show when we really need it, to help explore the fractured, fucked-up character of our times here, in the dark heart of the early twenty-first century?
I overhead someone a bus stop the other day wondering about the pre-9/11 world…she was in fifth grade on That Day, and really has no memory of the Time Before. Well, little girl, watch this cartoon and stare in slack jawed wonder at the naiveté of that time…the conventions of American Saturday Morning television notwithstanding.
The main characters overlapping love triangles (Nick like Audrey, Elsie likes Nick [or she just likes to piss Audrey off—and more power to you, Red], Mendel likes Elsie; Randy, true to his name, has a crush on Monique, for which I do not blame him) are annoying, but not disastrously so. Godzilla receives the dignity due him, remaining a straight lizard throughout. Human characters always supply the annoying faux-comedy. Learn to love playful splashing—there are more wet T-shirts on Nick’s team than in the titty bars down my street. No wonder all the characters seem to brim over with displaced aggression—they’re all horny teenagers trapped in adult bodies, further ensnared by the constraints of the Fox Kids Network Department of Standards and Practices.
I’ll derail that little train of thought right now, before it escapes my control, and meet you in the next episode.